


Boats & Birds

by nahm



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anne Breuil, Athos Angst, Athos Finally Admitting How He Feels, Athos Is a Workaholic, Athos Whump, Athos has cancer, Athos' Past is Fucked Up, Constance/d'Artagnan - Freeform, Detectives, Even Cancer Cant Stop Him, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Father-Son Relationship, Gay Male Character, Hurt Athos, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Thomas Fere, Mentor Athos, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Musketeers, Past Athos/Anne, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Protective Aramis, Protective Porthos, Protective Treville, Slow Burn, Sober Athos, Treville Is The Father Athos Deserved, Until it does, d'Artagnan Is a Precious Bean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahm/pseuds/nahm
Summary: In an alternate universe Athos is a detective, sober, and living the best life he possibly can. He's happy, as happy as he can be with his checkered past, he's madly, deeply in love, it only makes sense that life would throw a huge curve ball at him; he has cancer and he's in for the fight of his life.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

His leg bobs up and down, causing his detective’s badge to snap across his hip, it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. The clock in the corner of the room seems to have stopped moving, it’s hands frozen in place, but Athos can hear the clicks of the seconds passing by almost as steadily as his own heartbeat. He feels sick deep in his stomach and if he’d eaten anything earlier that day he knew he would have seen it again. Athos is grateful for his daily regiment of coffee and cigarettes. 

Doctor Wyther pushes the door open, his round face reminds Athos of a child, he looks to young to be a doctor, especially for the number of years he’s been practising. He smiles and it does nothing to help him appear more older. Athos shifts on the bed, the paper crinkling causes Wyther to raise an eyebrow at his embarrassment. “How are you feeling, Mr Fere?” He sets the clipboard with Athos’ file on the table, pulling it along with him as he sits in front of him. 

Up close Athos notices the small scar above his left eyebrow and wonders briefly how the man had gotten it. His eyes flicker over the man’s face, taking in his pale skin and freckles that seem to be painted over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Once he would have wanted to sit down and trace every dot, mapping every placement until he’d become familiar with them, only now when thinking of freckles he thinks of Porthos and how he’s covered in them. It makes him wish he’d told the younger man about the appointment, he needed his steady presence more than he’d been willing to admit. 

“I’m alright.” He answers, his eyes shifting to the tattoo across his wrist. During times when he couldn’t be with Porthos and Aramis the flower was a stark reminder of their bond. “Feeling a little nauseous.” Athos wasn’t entirely certain if it was from nature of the appointment or the fact that he hadn’t really eaten anything in the last two days. 

“Eaten anything lately?” 

“Not in the last 48 hours.”

Doctor Wyther shakes his head and sighs. He knows Athos well enough now that getting him to do anything is almost impossible. “You need to start taking care of yourself,” He pauses, leaning back in his chair and Athos knows this can’t be anything but bad news. “The results aren’t good, Athos, I’m not going to beat around the bush with you, I don’t believe in that sort of the thing and the quicker we get this sorted the quicker we can take the necessary steps towards recovery.”

Recovery. Athos hasn’t heard those words since he started rehab almost a decade ago. Only this time if the treatment doesn’t stick there most likely wont be a second chance. “How b-bad?” He doesn’t look up to meet Wyther’s gaze, instead he focuses on the tattoo stitched into his skin. 

“Stage two. We’ve caught it early enough however and if we get you into surgery and start chemo as quickly as possible the chance of it spreading and getting worse are slim.”

Slim. As if that were some sort of reassurance, his life was about to change forever and he was basing his chances on a slim percentage. Athos could almost laugh if it wasn’t so damn depressing. 

He lifts his head slowly and looks at the doctor. Wyther meets his gaze with confidence but all Athos can see while looking at him is death. “You have a chance, Athos, you can beat this.” He handed him a clip board of papers; consent forms and important dates, Athos can barely focus on his name printed at the top of the package. “You need to tell your captain as soon as possible.” He adds, placing a hand on his knee. It takes everything in him not to jerk away. “We’re looking to have start you on chemo as soon as possible, if we can shrink the tumour without having to perform surgery it would be ideal but there’s always a possibility that you will need to go under the knife.”

Athos nods, not trusting his voice, and signs his name on the correct places. He hasn’t even thought about how he might tell his loved ones. Treville would of course understands and would take all the necessary steps to accommodate him, like he’d been doing for most of his life, but the thought of telling Porthos and Aramis is enough to make him want to be sick.

“Your first session will start in about a month’s time, the first round of chemo wont be the worst of it but don’t expect to be going into the work the next day, you’re going to be out of commission for months, if not longer. I’ll send you an email with the date attached, try and take it easy, detective.” 

Wyther leaves him with his thoughts, patting his gently on the back, before slipping out of the door into the hallway, the closing door shutting him in seems like a bad omen.

\--------------  
Athos leaves the hospital feeling worse than when he came in, the nurses all smile at him but it doesn’t do much to ease the worry clinging to him. He pulls his jacket tight around himself, unable to get rid of the tremble that shakes his body. He didn’t have much of a plan for what to do next, he hadn’t even thought about how he’d make it home. Athos had his license but it was on the verge of expiring with how little he drove. He refused to get behind the wheel ever since the accident and Porthos was more than happy to taxi both him and Aramis around, only he hadn’t told either of them about what was going on, both were more than likely at the station, getting ready for a long day’s work.

What he doesn’t expect to see is Treville standing outside his car in front of the hospital, his face is blank, giving away nothing and for a moment Athos regrets not speaking to him beforehand. “Captain,” He comes to stand in front of Treville, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he’s almost positive he can hear it. “What are you-”

“Quit the bullshit, Oliver.” He’s not angry, not really, he’s upset and worried. Treville has never actually been upset with him. Athos has been on the verge of kneeling over and his father figure was always there with a supportive hand and a place to stay. “When were you going to tell me?” There’s hurt on his tone, Athos knows the captain enough to know that he feels betrayed by Athos not telling him. 

He lowers his head, kicking the ground beneath his boot. He hates that he upset him, especially after everything the man has done for him. “I was going to,” He answers, his voice low. He doesn’t have the energy to be anything but monotonically. “I wasn’t sure what the results--” The words get lost in the bulk of the captain’s trench coat as Treville pulls him in for a tight hug.

Athos never knows how to react with physically contact; he’d been left alone most of his life, forced to take care of his younger brother and himself for as long as he could remember, they grew up with a father that didn’t care and a mother who thought a life sought anywhere else than with her boys was better than the miserable exists she was living. 

He stands still in the embrace, unsure of what to do, a long second passes before he wraps his arms around the captain and closes his eyes. Treville smells like old brandy, old cigars and home, during his darkest moments it was the stability of the captain that had kept him grounded. Taking in the scents brings a well of emotions to the surface and Athos begins crying. 

It starts slowly in his chest and builds until his entire body is shaking, causing both him and Treville to tremble. He’s hyperventilating and it quickly becomes hard to breath, Athos cant focus on anything but the crushing feeling attached to his lungs. “Oliver, you need to breath,” He can’t, his lungs feel like there about to give in, oxygen refuses to entire his body.

Treville runs his hands down his back until he starts to breath properly again. He refuses to move from his mentor’s arms, it takes several moments for his body to calm down. “I’m going to take you home okay? Dont worry about coming in, I’ll take care of everything.” Athos lets Treville lead him into the car, curling into himself as he sits in the passenger side. 

He barely registers anything as Treville pulls away from the hospital and heads into town. His mind drifts as they drive through the city, wondering briefly how he’s suppose to tell his partners, Aramis and Porthos have only been with him for a few years, before them he’d refused to work with anyone else, they’d changed so much about his life and he was about to rip their entire lives apart. 

The captain drops him off, promising him that he’d return in a few hours with food and company. Athos barely paid him mind and slouched into the house, exhaustion eating away at him. He climbed up the stairs, ignoring the urge to eat something, and crawled into bed, not even pausing to kick off his boots. Athos is asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

Athos wakes the next morning to an empty house, his body is stiff from the position he fell asleep in and there’s a sharp throbbing in the back of his head. He really needs to get something into his body other than caffeine. He moves slowly, untying his boots before kicking them under the bed, the alarm clock on the side table tells him it’s four in the morning and he slept through most of the night, which is a first. 

His toes dig into the soft carpet, enjoying the warmth as he makes his way through the upper floor, Athos has never noticed how quiet his house was before, often he played a soft melody in the background whenever he’s working but most of the time the silence was deafening, a sharp reminder of how alone he truly was. If he was brave he might have told his boys how he truly felt about them and had their unique voices filling the cracks and foundation of the old estate. 

However it’s to late to tell them, Athos can’t draw them into the mess that his life right now, not with how much everything is going to change. He pauses on a pictures of the three of them that’s resting on the landing, Aramis has his arms around his middle, his lips pressed intimately against his cheek while Porthos laughs behind them, holding the three of them together as the picture is taken. Athos can see how uncomfortable he is in the photo but he remembers the feeling of love that engulfed him from the second they touched him. It was a feeling he couldn’t duplicate other than when he was with them.

Porthos and Aramis are his own personal sun, holding him to the earth and centring him ways he’d never thought possible. They’ve taken a broken man and tried their best to rebuild what was lost, all while supporting and accepting him for who he was. He’s never met a pair quite like them before. It makes him sad to think he might not be able to be apart of their inner circle for much longer.

Stop. Athos knows thinking the worst is the fastest way for things to get a wrong turn but his brain is high wired to automatically assume the worst of every situation, he’s been this way since he was a child, it’s part of the reason he’s an alcoholic. His thumb runs over the picture slowly, a small smile coming to his lips. Aramis and Porthos make him think he’ll be okay even with all that’s about to change. 

He places the picture back in it’s place and heads downstairs; Treville must have come back sometime in the night or early morning and put on a fresh pot of coffee. He also appears to have cleaned up his kitchen and living room much to Athos’ surprise, he was in no means a messy person but with how busy he’s been with work he hasn’t had the chance to tidy up. Rolling his eyes, he pours himself a cup of coffee and glances at the note pinned to the fridge, it’s in the captain’s elegant handwritting and it brings a warmth to his chest Athos can’t describe. 

_Oliver,_

_I hope you’ve slept for more than three hours and if you haven’t get your ass back up those stairs and get back to bed. Last thing you need is to pass out, take care of yourself, boy. I’ve left a pot of stew in your fridge and cleaned up what I assume can only be the left overs from a month ago, we’ve talked about this, and handed in the paperwork Doctor Wyther needed you to sign. He informed me you should hear from in within a week or so, you’ve been placed a temporary leave of absence and if see you showing up at the station I’m going to kick your ass. Focus on yourself for once, Athos, you need to and deserve it more than most._

_I haven’t told Aramis or Porthos about your diagnose, I thought you might want to tell them yourself. But don’t put it off until the last second, better to rip the band aid off as soon as possible._

_All my love,_

_Jean._

Athos read over the note twice just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything and take it off the fridge, he places it in the draw above the coffee pot with the other notes and reminders the captain has left him over the years. Treville has always gone out of his way to make sure he was okay and he never expects anything in return. At first, like most things, he wasnt sure how to handle the extra attention, but he’s grown to accept the affection the captain seems to enjoy giving him. He’s the father figure Athos always wanted growing up and he couldn’t be more grateful for his friend. 

He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself, it’s been a long time since Athos has had a significant time off work, he doesn’t have any hobbies and his work is his life, he supposes he could go back upstairs and sleep for a few hours but his body is awake and getting himself to wind down now would be impossible. He does need to shower and shave, the five o’clock shadow on his face is quickly becoming a strong stubble and he’s starting to look more like a homeless person. 

Setting the empty cup in the sink, he heads back upstairs and turns the shower on, with how old his house is it takes the water several moments to heat up, leaving time for Athos to stare at himself in the mirror. He’s always looked more pale than most of the population, his parents chalked it down to their ancestors and their obsessive need to look paler than ghosts, but he looks sickly, the bags under his eyes are dark and more pronounced than usual and he can hardly see the row of freckles lining his nose. The usual curl of his hair has lost it’s volume and he didn’t know it was possible but it looks like he’s lost most of his bright auburn colouring.

This isn’t just a result of the cancer, Athos has never truly taken care of himself. He’s been suicidal for as long as he could remember and daily task of taking care of himself are always put on the back burner. He’s only just noticed how hallow his cheeks look - like he hasn’t had a good meal in months. There’s a yellow colouring around his abdomen, the skin looks irritated and swollen, he wouldn’t have seen anything wrong had he not been shot a few weeks ago. It was like a miracle in itself, the gunman taking a shot at him could possible be the reason for his survival as ironic as it seems. 

Unable to handle the look of himself any longer he steps into the shower, letting the droplets of water hit his back and hair. The steam from the shower calms the racing of his heart and closes his eyes. As much as death doesn’t scare him, Athos is terrified to leave Aramis and Porthis. He’s finally found somewhere he feels like he fits in, he’s never felt this sort of connection with anyone in his entire life, not even his kid brother had been able to make him stop his down spiral of self destruction. 

He doesn’t want to even think of them continuing on in their lives if he loses this battle. Before he can put himself back into a hole he wont be able to drag himself out of, Athos forces himself to open his eyes and wash his hair, it’s a slow process and his hands shake but he eventually gets threw it, however by the time he’s finished the water’s gone cold. He stands for several more moments in the tub, until there are goosebumps on his arms, before he gets out, wrapping a fresh towel around his waist. 

Athos finds himself grateful for Aramis’ insight of his depressive outbursts, the Spanish man noticing how he’d worn the same suit for a week straight came over to help him tackle the ever growing mountain of laundry and left a fresh set of towels in his bathroom. Wiping the fog from the mirror, he works quickly to shave his face, not wanting to stare at his reflection longer than necessary. Clean shaven and showered, he picks a suit from the few Aramis laid out days before and relishes in the feeling of comfort and security the outfit brings. 

It’s a shield, a way of hiding the insecurities he’s never been brave enough to let anyone look at it. Detective Athos is respected by his colleagues, he’s smart witted and brave. He doesn’t have to rely on brandy and wine to get him through the day. Athos is the man Oliver has always wanted to be and he needs to hold on it for as long as possible. 

He pauses in the foyer, the stew Treville brought over screaming at him from the fridge. He really should eat something but he’s already late as is, making a promise to himself to grab a bagel from the coffee shop around the corner, he shuffles outside, leaving the bad thoughts of cancer and dying behind the locked door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone whose following this journey with me, I'm not entirely sure how long this will be or really what direction it's headed in just yet, really this story is a way to help me cope with the cancer my aunt has and I've found it extremely helpful to get my feelings and emotions out in a creative way that isn't at all destructive toward myself. 
> 
> Much like real life, we hope for the best out come, but that isn't always the case, and I'm sort of letting my thoughts direct me for this story, here's hoping for the best ending on every account!
> 
> I'm trying my hardest to be accurate as possible, I'm going off of what my aunt has been telling me about her chemo treatments and how she's been feeling afterwards. I apologize if something isn't entirely factual. 
> 
> x nahm


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone whose reading! It means a lot. I'm trying to write out as many chapters as I can before I start school in January, fingers crossed I can get a large chunk done.

Athos takes his time walking through the small suburb he lives in. Autumn is slowly starting to make it’s mark on the city, colours of oranges and red decorate the trees and frost clings to the bushes and grass in an extra coating. The cold month are always difficult, it gave him excuse to exclude himself further, huddling in the warmth of a house entirely to big for just him. Seasonal depression was the bullet in the gun of problems in his life, Athos clings to the warmer months like a month to a street lamp, soaking in the sun for as long as possible. 

He stops by Sally’s Cafe on the way to the station, grabbing a tray of coffees and bagel for himself, cinnamon raisin with plain cream cheese, he always gets the same thing, knowing either Porthos or Aramis are likely to pick off whatever is remaining. He slips in the station just as the graveyard shift is ending, barely dodging an elbow as the group hurries out the door. Scrunching his nose up, Athos glares at the back of Savourez’s head as the red head leaves the building. 

He doesn’t know why but Richard has never liked him, his went out of his way to cause issue with him, Aramis says it’s because he’s jealous but Athos thinks it’s something different, Savourez knew him in his younger years, actively participating in his downfall. He’s never told Aramis that of course, those demons were better left buried. 

Muttering under his breath, he readjusts his grip on the coffee tray and continues down the hall, swiping his ID card with his free hand. Athos sees his charge d’Artagnan leaning against a desk, speaking to a analyst named Constance. d’Artagnan is one of the youngest rookie’s they’ve ever had, he’s over confident and headstrong but hard working. As he draws closer to the pair he takes note of the fact that the young man is still in the same outfit he’d worn the day before, the wrinkles on his untucked shirt and tie make him cringe. 

Constance laughs at something he says and Athos wonders if the younger man spent the night with her, her fingers tap against his arm as they talk, her voice light and airy. “Detective Fere,” Her hand immediately slips away from d’Artagnan, her face flushed. She clears her throat, pulling a folder from what seems like out of nowhere. “We have the results of the code you wanted, I came up to drop them off with d’Artagnan seeing as you weren’t-” 

“That’s fine, thank you Ms Bonacieux.” 

Constance glances between the two of them, running her hands down the length of her skirt, she stands suddenly in the need to be anywhere else but between them. At least she’s appears to be dressed more appropriately than his charge. “I should get back, let me know if you need anything else.” Athos isn’t quite sure whom she’s speaking with but nods just the same, his gaze falling on d’Artagnan when she’s out of earshot. 

The young detective is still smiling, making the dimples on his face more visible. d’Artagnan doesn’t look old enough to be a detective, let alone working with Athos; if not for the harsh lines on his face and the facial on his upper lip and the beard some might mistake him for an intern. “First rule of spending the night out,” He says, handing over the first cup of coffee to him; black with three sugar and a splash of cream. “Always have a fresh set of clothing ready, preferably wrinkle free.”

d’Artagnan raises an eyebrow at him, blowing on the cup. “Sorry boss, I didn’t have time to run back to my apartment, this early morning shifts are killing me.” 

“They wouldn’t be if you went home and actually slept.”

“Right.. won’t happen again. The encryption we had Constance break,” They were on a first name basis now. Interesting. “Actually traces back to a known drug cartel, they’ve been quiet lately ever since Treville tossed their boss in jail but there’s been talk of the group reestablishing.” d’Artagnan tucks the folder under his arm and leads Athos through the station, never missing a beat. “The blood on the disk matches the blood from the kid that was brought in last night but as expected he’s not saying much.” 

Athos hasn’t officially clocked in yet and he feels the day already wearing him out. “Send whatever else you can to Ms Bonacieux and I want you to go and interrogate that kid Aramis brought in last night. He clearly knows something and he might tell us once he has a full stomach and some warm clothes.”

“Gotha boss,” d’Artagnan tucks a pen behind his ear and looks at him. One of the first things Athos noticed about the younger man is his intuition, he always seems to know something is amiss before everyone around him. He's young but wise behind his years and he's proud of the kid, he really is but he's also afraid that his gut-instincts are going to get him into trouble. "Everything alright?" 

Smiling a little, Athos sighs. Leave it to the kid to see that he wasn't his usual self. "Everything's fine, just a little tired." He's not lying, the exhaustion is an extension of himself, he's been tired for so long he can't remember a time when he wasn't. "Still up for dinner later?" Ever since his old man passed Athos has made it a point to meet up with the younger detective once a week for dinner, it's for his own sanity as well as d'Artagnan's. 

Weaving his fingers through his hair, d'Artagnan grins boyishly. "Course, although I'll never understand why you don't invite anyone other than me, you're a damn good cook, Charles doesn't think you can cook, I've told him multiple time that you can but he refuses to believe me, he thinks that you've been spoon feed your-"

"Some things are better kept a mystery, d'Artagnan. Now go and interrogate that kid before Treville loses anymore hair." 

Saluting the younger detective turns down the hall toward the holding cells, leaving a feeling he can't quite describe in his stomach. Athos always wanted children, his ex wife hadn't and he likes to think d'Artagnan sort of filled that empty hole in his heart, as stupid as it sounded. He's proud of how far he's come and if thing's dont end well he'd glad that Porthos and Aramis will have him to tide them over. 

He walks back toward his office, needing a moment to recollect himself, his stomach is rolling and he needs to sit down before he falls down. Athos knows the second Porthos and Aramis come into the department they'll make his way to him anyway, their like bloodhounds, always tracking him down no matter how difficult he made it to find him. 

He tosses the coffee tray in the waste bin in the corner of the room, slowly sipping on the tea he'd gotten for himself. Athos can't remember the last time he drank coffee, probably the same time his marriage fell apart. There's a stack of papers on his desk, most likely from the day before, waiting for him to sign or look over but he doesn't have the energy to even begin to sort through them. 

Unlocking his computer he lets a melody of violins fill his office and leans back in his chair. Athos knows it's only a matter of time before either the captain or his partners find him and he's enjoying the comfortable silence while he can, not that he doesn't love having his friends in his life, he does, but sometimes he needs a second to decompress the overwhelming thoughts of depression and anxiety. 

Almost on cue his office door opens and Treville walks in. He doesn't say anything, only shuts and locks the door behind him. Athos doesn't move from his position, closing his eyes as the music fills his soul. "Oliver," His true name generally snaps him out of whatever trace he's placed himself in but he honestly couldn't be bothered. 

"Athos," Treville's voice comes out in a growl this time, his patience is running thin. Rubbing his fingers over his eyes, hopefully trying to get rid of the paranoia, and lowers his head to meet the captain's gaze. 

Athos has known Treville a long time, he'd been a detective the first time he'd met him; huddled under a blanket, clinging to his younger brother for dear life while the officers dealt with their mother's body. Every hardship in his life, the captain had been there. Ever since that faithful night in October Treville has been there to help both Tommy and Athos, but he's never seen him look his age. 

To Athos he's an unstoppable force, with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. He's the reason he wanted to become a detective, however looking at his mentor now he only just realizes how cruel life's actually been to the man. He has crow's feet in the corner of his eyes, which Athos swears were once a deep coral blue, they've faded and lost the colour that once brought so much light into his darkness. 

Athos didnt notice before but he sees the grey hairs in his hair and beard, most likely brought on from stress, and a sadness clings to his movements, making him sluggish and worndown. Treville is overworked and exhausted. "I told you to stay home," Even his voice is not as harsh as it once had been, thirty years on the force was finally starting to catch up to him. 

The captain folds his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for an answer. Athos scowls, leaning on the desk with his elbows, he doesn't meet his eyes and stares at the collage of photos on his screen of Porthos, Aramis and himself. "I can't sit in that house alone." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. There were to many memories, to much darkness, in that estate for him to sit by and do nothing all day. "Dont you remember what happened last time?"

Treville does, he'd been the one to pull him out of his drunk stupor and help him rebuild his life after he'd left Anne. 

Running his hand over his face the captain let out a long breath, Athos knew he wasn't happy about it but he knew he was right. Being trapped in that house was just going to make him worse and that was the last thing any of them needed. "You're on desk duty until further notice," His eyes narrowed when Athos went to protest, "Dont push it, Oliver, count yourself lucky I dont send your ass home. When you start chemo I don't want to see you here, stay at one of the boys' house or you can stay with me but if I see you here I will fire you."

He wouldn't actually but it was enough to get Athos to nod in agreement. "I know you didn't come all this way to yell at me, what's wrong?" 

"That kid that Aramis brought in yesterday didn't say much, he only spoke when he reassured him that we could protect him." They already knew that but the way Treville looked at him told Athos there was more to this story than just some scared kid. "We could only get one name out of him before he asked for a lawyer. Anne Breuil."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see the boys in the next chapter! <3 I'm working on a Christmas one shot set in the same universe would anyone be interested?


End file.
